


These Salty Lips

by elliebird



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Oral Sex, Rough Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-03-18 21:56:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13690617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elliebird/pseuds/elliebird
Summary: "i just don’t think there’s enough fic where timmy chokes on armie’s huge dick, okay." - elio-bonerman





	These Salty Lips

**Author's Note:**

> Title from my favorite [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8YIIM1EVDqg) from high school.

  


  


Timmy’s seen Armie in a variety of phases, as he likes to call them. Boyishly handsome, windswept and clean shaven when they were in Crema. Dressed immaculately in Ralph Lauren for an A-List charity event in Bel Aire. A few pounds heavier at the end of the summer, bulked up muscle in his arms and chest for a new movie role. He loves them all. He’ll take Armie in any permutation he can get him but Sundance Armie might be his favorite. He’s cozy in thick wool sweaters and corduroys, his arm in a sling from overdoing it in the gym. He’s got a full beard and his thick hair is disheveled, reminding Timmy of the mornings they wake up together, when Armie’s face is soft with sleep and the only pressing thing is the need to get each other off.

Sundance has been a whirlwind of overwhelming first-time experiences from their first viewing of the film to his first q-and-a talking about the transformative experience of filming with Luca and Armie during a dreamy Italian summer. 

He jokes that no one knows who he is (“yet,” Armie tells him) but the benefit of no one caring what he does or where he goes is that no one is paying attention to the fact that he hasn’t once used the hotel room booked in his name or that he and Armie disappear together almost immediately after their press obligations are finished. 

Timmy’s on a high from the response to the film but more than that he’s giddy at getting to have all of this time. This morning Armie woke him up with fingers between his thighs working him open and his mouth sucking at the head of his cock and right when he was on the verge of blowing his load, Armie flipped him to his belly and fucked into him as slow as you please. It’s a luxury he doesn’t want to end. 

He’s been looking forward to this for the ten or so hours they’ve belonged to everyone else but each other, during interviews, photoshoots and other press, sharing their love for this movie after so many months of waiting.

It’s been only a few weeks since they said goodbye to each other in New York, since Armie sucked him off with his pants around his ankles and the sounds of his roommates in the kitchen. They had a couple steamy FaceTime dates in the intervening weeks but Timmy’s been looking forward to the end of the festival, to an hour (if Armie will let him) on his knees with his mouth full and his lips and chin slick with pre-come and his own saliva. 

Timmy has a neat little row of bruises in the shape of Armie’s mouth on his hip as proof of all the time they’ve had since arriving in Park City. He’s wearing a thin layer of full-coverage foundation to hide the irritated redness left behind by Armie’s beard and a snowy afternoon spent making out.

The hotel room door shuts behind Timmy, loud and finite and just like that, Timmy is half hard and ready to go. They’re on the same page here; he’s barely out of his coat when he finds himself pinned against the closet door, still in the room’s entryway. He’s held immobile by Armie’s palm on his chest, right above where his heart is hammering wildly. 

Timmy tilts his chin up, lips parted. Fuck, he’s ready. 

Armie cocks an eyebrow. “Is there something you wanted?” His lips are curved in the smuggest of smiles and Timmy would sock him in the stomach if he wasn’t so wound up. 

Armie knows how to hold a room’s attention. He knows how to charm his way into a critic’s heart, how to engage with someone. Timmy had meant to take mental notes. Armie’s a master class in how to be successful and still maintain your soul, but he’d spent the day obsessively cataloguing every smile, every laugh, unable to look away from Armie’s elegant fingers or the exposed hollow of his throat where his designer sweater pulled away. 

The fucking problem is that Armie is a smug prick and he knows exactly how horny Timmy is, that he’s practically gagging for Armie’s dick in his mouth and the lengths he’ll go to for what he wants. 

Timmy cocks his hips forward as much as he can with the weight of Armie keeping him pinned. He’s no California beefcake but he knows how to make the most of what he has. And he knows Armie’s weaknesses. He tilts his head to the side to expose his throat, wets his lower lip with the tip of his tongue and gives Armie a slow and lazy once-over. 

Armie’s eyes go midnight dark. Timmy has a half second to relish his triumph before he’s jostled against the door, caged by Armie’s hips. “You’re a little shit,” Armie mutters and kisses him. It’s not a hard kiss, Armie’s mouth is lush and soft, but a hungry kiss, a kiss full ten hours worth of impatience at not being able to kiss and touch and take. 

Timmy opens up to Armie, unable and unwilling to resist. He doesn’t feel playful. He doesn’t want to tease and draw this out. Not the first round. He’s unabashedly needy, ready to have his mouth full, to be on his knees, to ache afterwards with the reminders of getting his throat fucked. There were a half dozen reasons before now that they couldn’t but Sundance is nearly over. His press commitments are done and he wants to be absolutely ruined by Armie. 

Timmy can feel Armie gearing up for a nice, long makeout but he’ll take that later, after he’s made Armie come, taken his load down his throat with sore lips and an aching jaw. 

“Armie,” he says, breathing the words into Armie’s mouth. “Come on.”

Armie knows what he wants because Armie always knows. And because Timmy whispered in his ear as they were waiting for the film to finish, “I want you to make me choke on it.” Armie’s heavy-lidded gaze and flushed cheeks were worth the flood of embarrassment that always comes when he gives in and asks for exactly what he craves. He’d hidden his face in Armie’s shoulder after the words had tumbled out. Armie had let him, whispering “careful what you wish for, young Timothe,” into Timmy’s skin. 

Armie puts a half foot of distance between them but doesn’t let up, his palm on Timmy’s chest keeping him still. 

Armie is so sexy turned on like this. He’s golden from weeks in the Caymans with his family, his jaw covered in a beard Timmy’s felt on the insides of his thighs and the sensitive flesh of his ass. His mouth is pink from kissing, his cheeks ruddy with arousal. His blue eyes go dark and thunderous like a coming summer storm when he’s turned on. There’s the slightest hint of mischief there that makes Timmy swallow and wonder if poking the bear was the best idea. 

“What was that?” Armie’s smile creases the corners of his eyes and lights up his smug fucking face when Timmy lets his head fall back against the wall with a frustrated thud at the same time his hips come forward, rubbing himself shamelessly against Armie’s thigh. Armie makes him feel like a clumsy teenager. He’s not that far off from his clumsy teenage years and Armie’s ten years on him has given him experience and confidence that Timmy can only hope to have when he’s nearly thirty. 

Armie shifts his weight, both feet planted firmly and the lower half of his body keeping Timmy trapped. He slides his good hand into Timmy’s hair, fingertips stroking the nape of his neck where there are nerves connected directly to his dick. Timmy makes the most embarrassingly needy sound of his short life. 

“Ask me nicely,” Armie teases, grazing his nose over Timmy’s cheek, his lips trailing his jaw line. 

Timmy tightens his grip in the waist of Armie’s jeans. “Fuck you,” he says. It comes out breathy and needy, sounding more like please and now than anything. 

“Say ‘Armie, please let me suck your dick.’”

Timmy rolls his eyes, at himself, at Armie, at the need to do exactly as Armie says. He’s barely hanging onto his self-control. “Armie, stop being an asshole,” he says, feeling snappish and petulant. And then, because he can give in now and get what he wants or he can drag this ridiculous charade out endlessly, he looks Armie in the eye and says quietly, “I want to suck your dick.” 

Armie laughs like he’s won. Timmy follows him into the large room with its enormous picture window. There’s a stunning view of the snowy mountains, beautiful light coming in through the open curtains. Armie stops by the foot of the bed. Timmy doesn’t hesitate, dropping to his knees. 

Timmy gagged the first time he blew Armie. He hadn’t been prepared for the weight and girth, the way it filled his mouth, the thick head nudging at the back of his throat before he was ready. It nearly ruined the moment, this wave of panic that he couldn’t breathe, the pressure too much. He spluttered and coughed, his eyes watering. It hadn’t made him want to stop though. If anything, it had nearly kicked him over the edge into orgasm, sitting on his knees in his swim shorts, his mouth sore from the thick weight of Armie’s cock, lips sore and chin dripping spit. He was rock hard from the stretch of his lips, Armie’s taste and scent and the hand cupping his jaw as he was urged to take Armie deeper. 

He hadn’t expected to like it as much as he did. He definitely couldn’t have known that six months later his response to Armie urging him to his knees would be Pavlovian. He’s so fucking hard just being on his knees in the daylight spilling into the room as Armie unbuttons his jeans one-handed. 

It feels ritualistic when they do it like this. Armie likes to recline in the pillows with Timmy between his thighs, flat on his belly but when it’s like this it’s for Timmy who loves the submission of being on his knees with Armie towering over him. The angle is better this way, he can take more of Armie’s monster dick when he’s on his knees. He loves the exchange of power and god, the view. 

It’s as natural sunlight and rain, as breathing, to submit for Armie. He craves it the way he needs to be busy, the same restless need that comes of wanting to be the best he can be in whatever role he takes on. He hasn’t wanted submission with anyone else, except for Elizabeth but Elizabeth is an extension of Armie and he submits to her as easily as he does to Armie. 

Armie’s right arm is completely useless and it takes a second of fumbling to get himself uzipped, his underwear and jeans tugged down just enough to free his cock. Even half hard it’s obscene. It’s thick, the circumference of a beer can and a length that had shocked the hell out of Timmy the first time he’d wrapped his palm around it. 

Timmy’s mouth is full of spit, literally salivating for the weight of Armie’s cock on his tongue, stretching his lips and filling his mouth. He swallows and lets his mouth fall open, looking up at Armie and hoping he doesn’t look as shameless as he feels. 

Timmy reaches for it. He loves everything about this, getting his fingers around Armie to feel the weight of him, how soft the skin is, stretched over all that thick, rigid muscle. 

“Fuck,” Timmy says, the breath knocked out of him and all of the blood rushing to his dick, when Armie slaps his hand away. 

It’s unexpected, and stupidly hot. Timmy frowns up at him. “Armie, you dick,” he mumbles. His face is warm and his own dick’s trapped uncomfortably against his belly. All he wants is Armie to quit dicking around and fuck his mouth already. 

“Stop fucking around.” Timmy huffs through his mouth and looks up the length of Armie’s body. He’s been waiting all day and his patience is about to run out. 

Armie lets him this time when Timmy reaches for him again. “Someone’s demanding today.” The words are teasing but Armie’s voice is breathless, just as eager for this as Timmy but always unable to resist being just a bit of a jerk. Timmy watches his face when he finally gets his hand on Armie’s cock, his own long fingers not meeting around the girth of that big old dick. Armie’s fondness is showing from the set of his mouth to the softness around his eyes. 

Timmy gives Armie a few strokes, feeling him thicken and harden up all the way and when he’s full and red and almost rock hard, Timmy parts his lips and fits his mouth around the wide head where it’s spongy and wet. 

There’s a certain amount of discomfort that comes with getting Armie’s cock in his mouth. It never takes long for his jaw to start to ache, a twinge that begins beneath his ear and takes over. If he does it right, there will be tears and saliva, his face a mess of his own fluids. And then there’s the effect on his voice. He went to his parents’ place for the first night of Hanukkah, sounding like he had laryngitis and spent the night half hard at the memory of struggling to take Armie in his throat. 

If Timmy didn’t have blue balls already he’d draw this out. He likes to trace the rigid vein that runs underneath Armie’s dick with his tongue, slide his lips down the length with his tongue out and drag back up to play with the head. But he’s worked up to the point of frustration and he wants it one way today and that’s filling his mouth with Armie and forcing himself to take as much as he can. He wants it sloppy and wet, the room noisy with his gasps for air and the obscene sounds of himself choking on a dick. 

He keeps his hand around Armie and can’t help the low rumble of sound he makes when his tongue touches skin for the first time. He loves the way Armie tastes, the familiar feel of that soft skin filling his mouth. It takes focus, constantly aware of his teeth and fitting his mouth around Armie in a way that feels good to both of them and not a nightmare of scrapes and awkwardness. 

The first few times were agonizingly slow as Timmy learned how to breathe through his nose and relax his jaw simultaneously, something that didn’t come naturally in the beginning. It’s not always easy to get his mouth around the girth but fuck the rewards are always worth it. 

Timmy’s so hungry for this, after a month of waiting, that it doesn’t take long for the muscles in his jaw to relax and the mechanics of breathing and sucking and stroking all come back to him in a rush. 

Timmy spares a moment of regret for Armie’s injured arm. He fucking loves it when Armie gets both hands behind his head, nothing brutal but enough pressure to fuck Timmy’s face. Armie doesn’t hold back now. It’s not the same with one arm but it’s enough that Timmy moans around Armie’s cock when Armie gets a hand in his hair, palm flat against his skull urging him forward. 

Armie doesn’t take it easy on him anymore. They know each other well enough now and Armie’s stopped insisting that he remind Timmy to pinch his thigh if he needs to stop. Timmy knows and Armie trusts him now, trusts him to know when he needs to stop, when it’s too much or when it’s not enough. 

He’s barely gotten a few inches in when he pulls off with a slick sound to catch his breath. His eyes are watering already, his mouth dripping spit. He slides his palm down Armie’s cock, stroking him a few times with the slickness of his own saliva and Armie’s pre-come. 

“Fuck,” Armie hisses. He tightens his grip in Timmy’s hair, fucking Timmy’s fist at the same time. “You’re so good at that,” Armie says. It’s reverent and fond and Timmy lives for the praise. The words curl through him, shivers underneath his skin and down his spine. 

He preens at the approval and goes back in for more, for the sounds Armie makes and the fingers in his hair, for the “good boy,” that might slip out if Armie’s worked up enough. 

There are benefits to the ten year age difference between them, one of many being Armie’s ability to last longer than ten minutes. He’s rock hard and leaking, the salt of him filling Timmy’s mouth. Timmy swallows around him, his mouth overflowing. 

He drifts to some in between place where the only thing he’s conscious of is Armie’s cock in his mouth. There are faint reminders slipping in and out, the beginning of a soreness in his knees and the twinge beneath his ear when his jaw starts to ache. He’s also painfully, breathtakingly hard. 

When he’s been at it for a little while and his whole body feels loose and relaxed, he takes his hand from Armie’s cock and gives in to the pressure of Armie’s fingers in his hair. He takes a deep, shuddering breath. This is the point when he always wonders if he’s going to come untouched from just the first press of that thick cock nudging at the back of his throat until his airway opens up and he can take Armie just the slightest bit down. 

He sputters at first, a choking sound that makes Armie groan. He can feel Armie struggling to keep from fucking him like this and that turns him on as much as the hand in his hair and the stretch of his lips. He gasps, hungry and needy, and pulls off in a breathless rush. 

“Timmy, you’re so fucking filthy,” Armie says. It’s reverent and tender. Timmy is an absolute slut for praise of any kind from Armie and he’s coming to suspect that Armie’s figured him out. 

Armie rubs his thumb along the seam of Timmy’s lips where his mouth feels tender and swollen. He breathes in, exhales slowly, catching his breath and taking a second. When he lets himself look up at Armie, it’s to find him flushed, sweat at his temple and his blue eyes focused and heavy-lidded, drinking in Timmy like he might never get enough. 

Timmy opens his mouth and licks at the tip of Armie’s thumb, taking the taste of him into his mouth. He’s so turned on he wants Armie to touch him _everywhere_ and never stop. He turns his head slightly and kisses Armie’s wrist, feeling silly but unable to to help it. It’s a show of gratitude, a _thank you_ for how well Armie takes care of him. 

Armie rewards him with a low chuckle and a palm cupping his cheek where he’s sweat-damp and flushed. Armie can be demanding and selfish in one breath and in the next, sweet and so tender it makes Timmy’s chest ache with things he can’t say out loud. Not yet, not now, not when he’s still learning to trust it when Armie says this is real, he’s not going anywhere. 

“You want to finish me off?” Armie asks. “Hmm?” He strokes his thumb over Timmy’s cheekbone. “Or I can come just like this,” he says. “Jerk myself off all over this pretty face.” 

God, Armie’s voice makes me him so hard. Timmy nudges Armie’s hand away. “Fuck you.” Armie’s fucking teasing him, knows exactly how Timmy wants him to come, with his mouth stretched wide and Armie’s cock pulsing down his throat. 

Armie just laughs. “Go on, then, if that’s what you want.” 

Timmy opens his mouth and takes Armie _deep_ , gagging himself on it just to knock Armie down a peg or two. The power in being on his knees and yet completely in control like this is heady. He can’t touch himself or he’ll come all over at the first contact of his hand on his cock. He digs the fingers of one hand into his thigh, the material of his jeans bunching underneath. He grips Armie’s hip with the other and urges him to fuck his mouth, fuck his face, make Timmy take his come. 

He nearly does come a second later when Armie slides his fingers beneath his chin and taps gently at his throat to feel himself there. This is his favorite part, being held still as Armie loses it, gives up all pretense of being the one in control here, and lets himself go. 

The first shot of jizz fills his mouth, the hot salty taste of it spurring Timmy on even more because he’s a filthy fuck who can’t get enough. He takes everything Armie gives him and doesn’t let up until Armie pushes gently at Timmy’s forehead, urging him off as he trembles through the aftershocks. Armie comes _hard_ and it’s a sexy thing to witness. 

Timmy pulls off panting, aching in his jaw and lips. His knees hurt, his neck feels tight and his cock feels hard enough to bore holes through the floor. He’s a mess. His lips are wet with spit and tender, saliva dripping down his chin. His mouth is slick with Armie’s come. 

Timmy remembers not knowing what to do the first time in Crema after Armie had come in his mouth and Timmy had swallowed all of it, turned on by it and not once considering Armie might find it gross. Like most things though, their fetishes had aligned just fine and Armie had kissed him carefully with lips and tongue like he was chasing the the taste of himself from Timmy’s mouth. 

Armie doesn’t hesitate now. “Come here,” he says, sounding ragged, reaching for him one-handed. He’s still breathing hard. He pulls Timmy up off the floor and hauls him against him, absorbing Timmy’s weight. He kisses Timmy’s swollen, tender mouth, brushing his lips over Timmy’s and then insinuating his tongue into Timmy’s mouth where Armie’s come is still thick on his tongue. 

Timmy’s too far gone to care that he’s rubbing himself off against Armie’s thigh, full-on humping him like an animal in heat. He hides his face in Armie’s shoulder when Armie breaks the kiss to walk them backwards towards the bed, his face hot with need and embarrassment. 

Timmy watches in helpless fascination as Armie lays himself out against the pillows, his jeans still unzipped, his cock mostly hard still. He shoves his thick, designer sweater up his chest to bunch beneath his arms. 

“Come all over me,” he says hotly, smoldering. Timmy believes Armie wants it as badly as he does from the hunger and growl in his voice to the heat in his eyes as he watches Timmy scramble to get naked. 

Armie catches Timmy’s wrist and tugs him forward, urging Timmy to straddle his thigh. He moves his hand to Timmy’s hip, his fingers warm on his skin, and slides down to palm Timmy’s ass. 

Timmy’s shoulders hunch and his back bows immediately when he gets his hand on his cock. He’s so hard the relief of touching himself feels almost painful. He could come twice, he thinks, with the memory of choking on Armie’s monster dick, his lips still sore and used-feeling. 

“Fuck, you look so good like that,” Armie tells him, letting his hand wander, fingers trailing down Timmy’s ass to slip between, finding where he’s tight and aching. “You took that so well, fuck, Timmy. So hungry for me, hmm? Hungry for my cock in your mouth.”

Timmy shakes his head to get his hair out of his eyes, focused on Armie’s attention on him. 

“Don’t stop,” Timmy pleads, whether it’s for Armie to keep talking or keep touching him where his asshole is hidden and so sensitive that even the brush of Armie’s fingertip makes his thighs tremble. 

The smile Armie gives him is a mix of sweet and dirty and pushes, the tip of his finger slipping inside Timmy and lighting him up from the inside. He groans and comes just like that, fucking his fist and silently begging Armie to finger-fuck him. It’s a series of pulses that land on Armie’s belly and chest, the contrast of his spunk obscene against Armie’s sun-god skin. 

Timmy’s half asleep a short while later, lulled by Armie’s mouth on his and his big hand and long, elegant fingers stroking him everywhere. 

“Sleep,” Armie mumbles, brushing Timmy’s sweaty hair off his forehead and kissing his cheek. “When you wake up, you can fuck my face.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [Tumblr](https://elliebirdthings.tumblr.com/) if you're into that.


End file.
